Pan's Labyrinth: The Labyrinth of the Faun

In consiliis nostris fatum nostrum est, the words read. “In our choices lie our fate.

Wood always remembers it was once a living tree, alive and breathing in both kingdoms, the one above and the one below.

Mortals don't understand life is not a book you close only after you read the last page. There is no last page in the Book of Life, for the last one is always the first page of another story.

Her mother said fairy tales didn't have anything to do with the world, but Ofelia knew better. They had taught her everything about it.

Only books talked about all the things adults didn't want you to ask about--Life. Death. Good and Evil. And what else truly mattered in life.

Sometimes the objects we hold dear give away who we are even more than the people we love.

Although we may wish for it, true magic is a scary thing.

The raindrops were tears too. The whole world was crying.

Secrets. They add to the darkness of the world but they also make you want to find out more...

That was the use of knives for women: to cut food for the men who killed with their knives… who killed those women's husbands, their sons, and their daughters.

Evil seldom takes shape immediately. It is often little more than a whisper at first. A glance. A betrayal. But then it grows and takes root, still invisible, unnoticed. Only fairy tales give evil a proper shape. The big bad wolves, the evil kings, the demons, and devils . . .

We feel immortal when we are young. Or maybe we just don’t care that much about death yet?

When she finally wrapped her arms around the girl, the softness stirring in her heart frightened her. It was dangerous to be soft in this world.

Carmen Cardoso believed the most dangerous tale of all: the one of the prince who would save her.

The entry wound cried a single tear of blood. Such an insignificant wound, but Death was nesting in it.

So much cruelty. She’d seen too much of it in this place. Sometimes she wondered whether it covered her heart like mold by now.

The only piece of home Ofelia had been able to take with her were some of her books. She closed her fingers firmly around the one on her lap, caressing the cover. When she opened the book, the white pages were so bright against the shadows that filled the forest and the words they offered granted shelter and comfort. The letters were like footprints in the snow, a wide white landscape untouched by pain, unharmed by memories too dark to keep, too sweet to let go of.

Only her master knew her true name, for in the Magic Kingdom to know a name was to own the being that carried it.

Her mother said fairy tales didn’t have anything to do with the world, but Ofelia knew better. They had taught her everything about it.

Sometimes even the healers are turned into butchers by the darkness of this world.

But all things lost can be found again, the trees whispered.

It's always just a few who know where to look and how to listen, that is true. But for the best stories, a few are just enough.

A long time ago, in the underground realm, where there are no lies or pain, there lived a Princess who dreamed of the human world. She dreamed of blue skies, soft breeze, and sunshine. One day, eluding her keepers, the Princess escaped. Once outside, the brightness blinded her and erased every trace of the past from her memory. She forgot who she was and where she came from. Her body suffered cold, sickness, and pain. Eventually, she died. However, her father, the King, always knew that the Princess' soul would return, perhaps in another body, in another place, at another time. And he would wait for her, until he drew his last breath, until the world stopped turning...

It is hard to have secrets one cannot share, or to believe in a truth that others don't want to see.

When she opened the book, the white pages were so bright against the shadows that filled the forest and the words they offered granted shelter and comfort. The letters were like footprints in the snow, a wide white landscape untouched by pain, unharmed by memories too dark to keep, too sweet to let go of.

Sometimes we need to see what we feel so we can know about it.